The first thing I saw when I groggily opened my eyes was my dog, who stood over me eager to get the day started. At 5 AM, of course!
Because Toby was acting like he really needed to go outside, I got out of my warm bed, wrapped myself up in my bathrobe, and quietly emerged from my basement with Toby running laps between me and the backdoor. After lifting the doggy-door cover, I made my way to the kitchen and immediately turned on my kettle (which I’d filled up with water the night before).
Sure, it was 5 AM. Sure, it was Spring Break. Sure, it was still pitch dark outside. But, once my dog woke me up (which he always does at exactly 5 AM these days), I was up for the day and in desperate need of caffeine.
Toby charged inside right as I was filling up my mug of black tea and honey, fully expecting me to have his breakfast ready.
“Toby, you have an entire bowl of food right there!” I said as I pointed to his food bowl full of kibble.
Toby wasn’t having it. He knew, damn well, that there was an old steak waiting for him in the fridge. Needless to say, Toby had steak for breakfast, while I ate a half-dozen boiled eggs with my black tea.
At 6 AM, I was dressed and almost ready to go. The first signs of dawn were just appearing in the navy-blue sky, and I could hear a Mountain Chickadee singing a song from my crabapple tree. By the time I had my camera cleaned and ready to go, the sky had turned from its navy blue to a beautiful cyan streaked with dark purple, pink, and orange clouds. Towards the horizon, the sky brightened into a gradient of teal-green to white-yellow. And, right as I got in my Xterra, the sun was peaking just over the horizon, staining the western foothills a salmon-pink color.
Aside from the birdsong, which consisted of Chickadees, Robins, Crows, and several Blue Jays yelping at each other, all was quiet. The wind was still, no dogs were barking, hardly any vehicles were on the road. It was a perfect day to get some pictures of wildlife.
As usual, I first headed into Ken Caryl Valley, in hopes of coming across my deer friends in the more remote parts of the Valley. But, I quickly discovered that all of the deer I saw were concentrated in people’s front lawns and backyards. Still, I got out and hiked around near God’s Ass and along the hogback, taking pictures of the birdlife singing all around me.
As much as I loved and cherished the Valley, I just wasn’t feeling it that day. By “it”, I mean I just wasn’t feeling all that motivated or inspired by the wildlife and natural wonders I’d grown so used to seeing. The deer were all the same, as were the birds, red rocks, and barren deciduous trees. Still, I managed to get a handful of close-up pictures of Spotted Towhees and European Starlings in the Cottonwoods, before I finally decided to look for wildlife elsewhere.
When I got back to my Xterra, I remembered that when I’d recently renewed my tags, a state parks pass had come with them. Chatfield State Park was located just a few short miles away, and I figured hardly anyone would be there on that cold Tuesday morning. So, I pointed my Xterra eastward towards the place where I caught my first fish (a Largemouth Bass) when I was just six years old.
It had been years since I last visited Chatfield State Park, and I’d never gone there alone before. In a way, I felt like I was going there for the first time.
I decided to take the scenic route to Chatfield State Park from the valley. Instead of following Ken Caryl Avenue back into civilization, I drove the road that flanked Coyote Song Trail: a popular public hiking trail that weaved around more red rock formations I used to enjoy before I was spoiled by Ken Caryl Valley. Soon, that road led me out of the foothills and back onto the plains, taking me past Hildebrandt Ranch and Denver’s Chatfield Botanic Gardens. Finally, across the highway, I crossed the gate into Chatfield State Park.
I pulled over to grab a map from the visitor’s bulletin board and figure out where I wanted to go. Just off the side of the road was a small retention pond where a pair of Ring-Necked ducks were drifting on the water’s glassy surface. I grabbed my camera and headed into the grass as quietly as I could, as to not spook them. But, they saw me approaching and quickly took flight.
To be continued...
